Draco's Massacre
by Shadow Silver Wolf
Summary: Something very bad is happening in Draco's life, he's had enough of it all and is preparing to do what no other Hogwart's student has done at the age of seventeen... CHAPTER 6 IS UP-THE ACTUAL CHAPTER!
1. Chapter 1

"Now Draco, I have studied your school results for the past six years and as any parent would expect, I am undoubtedly disappointed and ashamed to call you my offspring."

_Offspring? Aren't you meant to say son? He describes me as some sort of blonde Longbottom!_

I stood motionless before my own despicable father, listening to his lecture on how important it is to live up to the family name.

"And what do I have to live up to? I have to be a Death Eater and marry the richest pureblood woman that daddy dearest can find…" I muttered bluntly under my breath, looking at the window directly behind Lucius Malfoy. It was better than staring at his father's matching steel grey eyes.

"Do not mutter incoherently under your breath in front of me boy, _Crucio_." Lucius almost said lazily at the flick of his wand, burning internal fires caressed my veins and dashed over under my skin, causing diminutive pain.

I was used to it, I just stood there, hands and teeth clenched as I matched my father's glare. The pain continued, but faintly, my body was already slacking off, I always expected this punishment before each week of the beginning of term.

"This year will be your finest year, your final year, Draco Malfoy will be listed as the **only** top student this year. Am I correct?" the older Malfoy sneered, not bothering to take off the curse he had placed onto his only son.

I remained silent, it took all of my energy not to lash out at the shell of my father. My eyes, avoided his stipulating gaze by continually staring absently out that same window which he had thrown me out of when I had been home for just a week.

"I guess you have to learn some manners boy, and I know the perfect curse to knock you back to your normal self. It's a brand new curse that I've developed, I think it just might be soon up with the other **harmless** Unforgivables… _Inflametible!_" Lucius cursed revolving his wand in a smooth clockwise motion.

The pain instantly knocked him off his feet, he felt like his own pale flesh and blood was on fire and as I grimaced at my arm I saw, well just a flicker of a fading flame.

"_Unflametible!_" Lucius indolently whispered, smirking at me, I assumed he didn't regret nearly killing me. _I doubt he ever did, that selfish, half-blood follower._

"Well Draco, assuming that you felt the wrath of The Invisible Flame curse, however that was only a small dosage of it because of course I wouldn't like to be disposing my only heir to the Malfoy throne." Lucius mocked, pretending to care about the life of that I am imprisoned in.

"The Invisible Flame?" I inquired, hopefully trying to keep my father's attention on his latest creation rather then on punishing me even more.

"Yes, you heard me Draco, The Invisible Flame is exactly what its title states. The pain you felt was an actual flame burning your skin however it leaves no marks and of course, is invisible to everyone else but the inflictor." My father laughed mechanically as if he was **amused** by his little joke.

Suddenly a crack erupted between us as one of our many pathetic house-elves magically appeared, anxiously bowing to its masters.

"Yes house-elf, speak." Lucius demanded impatiently, grabbing his black and silver cane from the nearby desk, undoubtedly going to strike the wretched thing. Or me.

"Mistress requests Master Malfoys presence for a quiet afternoon tea beside the lake." The deplorable gnome stuttered at my dire excuse for a father.

"Which lake, elf?" again, Lucius demanded swiftly clipping the house-elf behind its knees, causing the panicky house-elf to buckle onto the slate grayish-black stone floor.

"The big one, sir." The house-elf stammered, struggling to clamber to its feet.

"Tell Narcissa I will be there instantly, be gone with you!" Lucius commanded.

I stared silently at the quick, demanding conversation that my disgusting father had held with one of out petty servants. Oh how I would very much like it if he died, kind of ironic, everyone, friends or foes constantly mention that I am exceedingly like the elder Malfoy, I even resemble him down to the gloating smirks of satisfaction and yet I want to murder him with my own hands.

I awaited my father's dismissal before exiting his study and entering my sanctuary.

"Permission to speak, sir."

"Permission granted Draco, what is it, I need to meet your mother for afternoon tea soon." Lucius stipulated coldly.

"Father, may I have your consent to abscond from your sight?" I asked emotionlessly, finally coming to face with the monster which I knew lived inside of me.

"Yes." My father again, replied coldly. He was an emotionless stone, never fading, always there to haunt me, my father was a bastard and a Death Eater, I never really denied it, I accepted it.

I left without uttering another word, making my way out of the now empty study and down the many passageways in the Malfoy Manor. The corridors were empty, almost eerie with all the glass jars of tarnished muggle internal remains and sleeping portraits of our ancestors. Walking silently passed all of the Muggle remains and pictures of them dying on the walls, if I didn't know my father, I would've thought he was obsessed with muggles because of the many impure things that hung up upon the stony fixtures.

"Well it **is** a pleasure to see **Lucius** Malfoy's son up and about, now isn't it?" a mysterious voice whispered as I studied the ghost before me.

_Was that all I was, am? Some rich Death Eater's son? I haven't got my own identity, I stole mine._

Shaking my head with disgust, I sauntered right through the silvery misty remains of what once was my Great-great-great-great-grandmother's aunt, when I ambled through I casually accepted the slimy shivers that threw themselves upon me until I stepped out of my ancestor's ghost.

After a few miserable minutes passed and a several more flights of stairs had been climb I reached my own little hideout. Rather pitiable really, a seventeen year old man has a hideout where he can almost **escape** the world he's imprisoned in.

Gazing around the small room, smiling at my collection, it wasn't just **any** collection, the were a whole wall dedicated to the knives, axes and other muggle torture tools, such as this thing **they** call a **screwdriver**, I mean, what do they screw this into? All of the tools he cleaned with his wand and sharpened by his own hands, I couldn't ask the house-elves to clean or sharpen my tools, they would go straight to either one of my blood relations.

The other walls weren't as… homicidal as the previous, the farthest wall away was just shelves filled with all the darkest books throughout the ages. The wood that held up these manuscripts was a dark mahogany that was entwined with flecks of silver.

The next two walls were only made up of windows but they weren't just any windows, I could see anyone using these windows, at anytime, anywhere.

In the middle of the room there was a small table beside a simple dining room chair, both created by the same silver flecked mahogany wood.

My feet carried me into my sanctuary and led me to the table where I picked up a fresh scroll of parchment and wrote down everything about this 'The Invisible Flame' curse. There was nothing but silence except for the uncanny scratching noises from my eagle feathered quill. I even noted on how to pronounce the curse and which way my wand should rotate.

Without warning a loud crack snapped and through the small cloud of smoke I saw another one of my father's slaves.

"Yes?" I questioned, my quill poised to continue writing as I glared intensively at the worthless pile of rags that practically smothered the little house-elf.

"Master Malfoy wishes you to prepare for dinner for it is nearly six o'clock and his dinner guests will be arriving soon." The miniature elf whispered, as if it had said something purely evil.

_Voldemort must be coming, or another set of my fathers 'business' associates. Just what I need, Pansy will be around then…oh bloody fucking hell._

"Mister Malfoy? He also requested you wear your finest robes for it is tonight you will propose to Miss Parkinson."

I stood up in shock, I wasn't even expecting this to happen, not yet, and it's too soon.

"Very well elf, please send us to my room for I believe it would take me quite some time to walk back there." I replied brusquely, hiding my shaking hands.

--------------------------------------------At Dinner-----------------------------------------------

"May I present the only Lord fit to overrule, the one we all follow and the one man who will rid the Magical World of muggles, the Dark Lord, may I present Lord Voldemort." The ancient vampire introduced as a pale, spider-like man stepped into the exquisite and elaborate dinning room.

We all rose from our seats and bowing curtly towards Voldemort, waiting for the permission to sit down once more.

"You may be seated my loyal servants." The Dark Lord ordered softly, his red eyes burnt like hot coals as he took the highest seat around the table.

There were only three families here at the dinner, the Parkinson's, Zabini's and of course the Malfoy's. I sat across from the ugly, pug-faced Pansy and next to my best friend, Blaise. All the fathers sat right next to Voldemort and the mothers were position at the end of the table, Pansy, Blaise and I were seated right in the middle, eating silently, while our fathers discussed 'business' and our mothers discussed the size of their fortunes.

I couldn't help but dread the moment our families finished the twelve-course dinner, I was using my fork to jab random bits of the **largest** piece of boar lying on my plate with my right hand while fiddling with the box that contained Pansy's ring.

"May I have your attention," silence fell as the sinister red-eyed man stood up from his intricate designed chair, actually it was more like a throne.

"Now I believe our young Mister Malfoy will be taking the stand and ask something that I am sure will **delight** all." Voldemort hissed softly, I felt every pair of eyes fall upon me as I stood and strolled around to that cow Parkinson.

"Pansy Parkinson, daughter of Maria-Ann and Albert Parkinson, tonight, as I **kneel** before you, I ask, for the sake of love, will you marry me?" I spoke to the undeserving slime, kneeling on one knee and presenting her will a silver ring, the diamond and emerald's on it bigger than her IQ.

I didn't say the speech for **her**, I said it because of my inexcusable, insignificant father, who made me take the plunge.

"I accept your proposal Draco!" Pansy squealed barely containing her excitement.

_Damn it. Why do I have to marry this bloody ugly whore? I hate her and I wish Pansy would drop off the face of the earth._

"Now that, that's done, I must say my beloved Draco should go to bed now, as should everyone for our progeny leave for their final year of Hogwarts early tomorrow morning." My mother, Narcissa spoke up, smiling widely at the moment.

"Oh yes, Narcissa, I suppose I shall be off now." Blaise's father smiled too, as he bid farewell to everyone and without another word Apparated with his family.

"Yes, I think we shall leave to, we don't want your son's fiancée to not get her beauty sleep." Albert Parkinson followed suit and disappeared with an audible popping noise, pursued immediately by the two other Parkinson's.

"Now since everyone else is gone, may I stay the night Lucius?" Voldemort inquired, knowing his answer.

"Yes, my lord. Now Draco you have my permission to go to your quarters and get some rest." Lucius swiftly dismissed me with a flick of his hand.

"Oh yes, I'll go to bed, once **my** business is sorted out." I snickered, exiting the dining room and making my way up to my sanctuary.

_The time has come…_


	2. Chapter 2

It was the dead of the night, I crept from one dark shadow to the next, inaudibly drifting beside the walls, passed closed doors and sophisticated rooms until I reached the second master bedroom. I removed a small bottle from my jeans pocket, eradicated the cork and drank from the pasty green contents.

Immediately after consuming it, the advance transforming potion burnt the back of my throat as I knew that I was changing into a House-elf. My skin became loosely frail and changed into a sickening brownish-green-maroon colour, I felt my eyes grow to an extent that they grossly out-weighed the rest of me. The clothing I had worn before the potions affect had dramatically changed, I would no longer describe them as clothes but merely a twisted, rotting pillow case swathed in dirt and grime. It made my insides turn in disgust, it had come to this, a Malfoy wearing servant clothes, what has the world come to?

After a few minutes checking that I had everything I needed, I knocked on the door and waited to be allowed in. My bag was hidden, my back hunched and my knife positioned firmly in my hand.

"Come in petty servant and state your meaning of disturbing my sleeping hours." A cold voice called, obviously, thanks to Occlumency that my father taught me, the Dark Lord hadn't discovered my disguise.

"Yes?"

"Master Malfoy requested that I should check upon his most important guest by making sure he is in his bed and is securely tucked in." I stuttered. The voice was unknown to me so it was weird hearing these words tumbling out of my mouth as I began stumbling over to the vile, abnormally thin man.

"Very well elf, tuck me in properly." Voldemort commanded stiffly.

Mentally gagging, I continued forth, behind my back I held my prize knife, poised and eager to taste the sweetest liquid of all-blood. Voldemort lay there against midnight black pillows, his disgusting face gleaming with superiority as my father's lord's piercing red eyes observed everything I did. Gradually, I lifted one of my now crinkly hands and tucked him in. Every bit of my brain was forcing me not to attack now, but to wait until he was nearly asleep.

Leisurely, Voldemort dipped into a sinister slumber, I had had it with waiting, pulling my dagger from behind my back I slipped it below his pointy, pale jaw.

"I will not serve anybody, you are not any exception." I spat, Voldemort's eyes snapped open as I drew the lethal line across his throat, softly enough to tickle, hard enough to kill.

I drove the knife deeper into his throat, more blood seeped from the rather large gap between his head and his collar bone, the scent of blood filled the air like invisible smoke, engulfing every living thing in this room. Pity there was only me to see my triumph against the Dark Lord; a crowd would have been more satisfactory.

I felt his body shift in panic but after my blood-red knife had lifted from his throat, his body became limp and cold.

Alas, finally Tom Marvalo Riddle was dead.

And now it was up to me, to dispose of the limp pile of blood and flesh. I held back the strange, strong urge to laugh, my brief description of Voldemort's body almost made him sound remotely human.

"Now for my dear father and mother, no doubt they will be easier to dismiss." I murmured, summoning my private elf to bury the body in the hole it had dug earlier.

_I suppose I'll have to kill my house-elf too, can't leave any witnesses…_

I left the smell of blood along with the Voldemort's room, stealthy creeping along the vacant and hushed passageways towards the leading room in the Malfoy Manor and towards my parents domain.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

I was still a House-Elf, but the potion would soon run out, thus, I hauled out another bottle of the vile, pasty green intoxicating liquid and swallowing every last drop. Again my throat ached like it was on fire, the very blood in my veins sizzled and scorched my internal body as I refused to let even the tiniest whisper of pain escape my lips. I won't give that pleasure to anybody, not even myself.

I gently move stealthily against the wall, wiping my knife clean as I knocked upon my next victim's door, waiting just like I did previously, but this time, the door swung open by another House-Elf.

_Oh shit…_

Panic shot through my elf-like body, making me nauseas and dizzy, until I remembered my excuse for being there. I took a deep breath, I had done this before, but this time it was more dangerous.

"Master and mistress' tea and whiskey as requested." I stammered, again that strange voice had replaced my normal, dignified and graceful tone.

"I was just leaving Gark alright?" the elf in front of me hissed impatiently. It was no secret that the elves hated my father, however this one seemed to think I resemble the House-Elf I had just recently killed, my House-Elf.

"Hurry up you worthless sack of debris!" my father demanded, his cool demeanor lost when he had smelt the fine essence of his nightly whiskey.

Without a word, the other House-Elf left, leaving me to stumble forward and hand my parents drinks over.

"Shall I stir the mistress' tea?" I queried, forcing myself to remain a like cowardly servant the potion had turned me into.

"Yes, yes, and stir my whiskey like always, be quick or your head will find its place on the House-Elf wall.

I knew my father was referring to the wall which was nearly completely filled with House-Elf heads, all of which were beheaded when they died in service of the Malfoy ancestors. My stomach twisted inside of me as I sharply turned away from them, this was my chance.

Uncorking another bottle of liquid, pouring the blood red contents into my father's glass before hesitating over my mother's tea cup, I was unsure if I should pour my mother's fate into her tea. She had been slightly nicer to me, buying tiny gifts or coming to my Quidditch games to cheer me on secretly, however I didn't want anyone to survive otherwise my plans for Hogwarts would be completely ruined.

"Gark! I demand you to hasten your pace, unless you prefer to have some sense literally knocked into you!" my mother, Narcissa snapped.

No longer unsure of my decision, I tipped more than the required amount into Narcissa's cup, I knew I was doing the right thing, turning around I presented both tea cup and whiskey glass over to my victims and watched them slowly paralyze.

"What did you do?" my father gasped, struggling not to fall down and attempting to reach his wand.

Preparing for this I accio-ed both of my parents' wands over to my outstretched hand, and with a sinister smirk creeping onto my face I glared at them.

"My, my, Lucius, what's wrong? You seemed to be very stiff on this fine evening." I said, mocking my father's usual tone of voice.

"Oh and to answer your question, I simply poured a paralyzing potion into your drink, consequently making you a **pushover** to anyone, even me." I laughed softly, pushing Lucius and Narcissa down onto the bed emphasizing my explanation.

"Now I know you must be thinking, or at least thought about what I am planning to do with the infamous Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy, but I think I will let my dearest friend show you exactly." I concluded, again removing my prized dagger from its leather case, beneath my pillow case.

I almost heard them begging me to stop, but I knew the time had come, their time was up and they couldn't do a thing about it because they were obviously too paralyzed.

"Say your precious good byes, you have been rotten parents." I whispered, letting the words float from my mouth and slither into the ears of my victims to-be.

I raised the knife in front of my mother, Narcissa Annabelle Malfoy, her eyes wide with terror as I let her draw her final breath.

As if in slow motion my dagger came down onto her swan-like neck, killing her instantly, I had realized just then that I didn't want my mother to feel anymore pain than she had to when dying.

_Silly; really._

Narcissa's blood began to percolate out of her neck and slipping down onto her nightgown, changing its usual innocent blue into a violent shade of mauve. Marching forward in the direction of my father's feebly paralyzed body and smile evilly. All his miserable life he had taken what was not his, the lives of mudbloods and muggles, he had destroyed my mother's sanity and nearly my own, and now Lucius must be punished.

I held the knife close to his throat, his breath was abnormally fast and warm against my ghostly white hand, I always thought someone's eyes were the window into their soul, but all that was revealed was fear. For the first time in my life I just saw what my father was really like, a pitiable man who bowed down and kissed the shoes of an even more pitiable being.

"I hope this hurts." I whispered darkly, digging the knife into my so-called father's throat, cutting deeper and deeper into the depraved man's neck as drop by drop, the blood dribbled through the opening.

Pulling away from his flaccid body, I summoned another one of my House Elves and ordered them to be beheaded and placed on two serrated wooden poles and placed in front of the Leaky Cauldron.

_That will give those bastards a bloody shock…_


	3. Chapter 3

**DAILY PROPHET HEADLINES**

**Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy: Beheaded!**

Today at 6:01a.m, the Leaky Cauldron's owner and barmen opened his window and there, propped on serrated wooden poles were the heads of the deceased Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. "No suspects, witness or evidence, thus, the Aurours investigating this case have found their deaths rather perplexing." Mr. Cornelius Fudge informed the Daily Prophet source.

…………………………. ………………………….

I shoved the paper away from myself after finishing the first paragraph, all that was after that little paragraph was just covering their 'achievements' and how dearly they would be missed, in actual fact: I thought they were really saying how much my father and mother both bribed others to seem generous-pathetic. The part about them being greatly missed, well let's just say more than half of the people turning up to the funeral are going to be there just to make sure both are truly dead and buried six feet under.

Wadding more bacon and eggs into my mouth, as I stood up to summon my trunk and broomstick, I had to fly to the station underneath my invisibility cloak today.

_Why are you even bothering to go to this hell hole?_

_Because there are more people there that I despise…it will be fun…_

_But killing isn't fun!_

_And neither are you!_

_Why are you doing this?_

_I hate what these people have done to me, or are still doing it. My father and mother were forcing me to become something I'm not, Voldemort was a fucking bastard, he pulled my family into the Dark Side and never let them go. Voldemort tarnished the Malfoy name and because of this, I had him punished._

_Then why are you planning to kill the rest of them?_

_They have done other sinful things to me…_

Sighing, I attached my trunk to my Storm 5000 (the latest broomstick) and began walking down to the edge of the take off area in my family's private Botanic Gardens. As I strolled past my late mother's Rose Garden I saw their graves containing their beheaded bodies, crows hovered or were perched around the grimy stone tablets creating almost a sad and eerie scenery. Dead rose petals flittered in the wind until the blood red petals came to rest upon the disturbed dirt.

Laughing it off, I continued a little further until once more stopping at another person's grave, this was of course, Tom Riddle's grave. No crows dared to fly by this evil place, no wind, no sound, just silence around the lake. I had decided to bury him beside the swamp-like lake because I thought that's what best describes the Dark Lord. The words like shallow, slimy, filthy came to mind as I saunter past, my head held high and dignity surrounding myself.

Upon reaching the take off area, I slung the warm Invisibility Cloak around myself, with my broom and trunk underneath me I took flight, changing directions occasionally to make sure I was heading straight for the London Station.

The wind tousled my blonde hair; the cool wind bit my pale skin and it nearly blinded me as the tiny flecks of dust flung themselves into my silvery eyes. My hands were frozen onto my broomstick and my teeth chattered, I never thought it would be this cold in Summer.

……………………………………………………………………………………………..

I landed softly behind the station in a dirty alleyway, luckily this time there were no muggles I had to Oblivate. Garbage of all sorts littered the streets as I strode over to the entranceway of the wretched muggle station, people were bustling in and out, and I noticed some familiar faces, unfortunately.

Pansy was running up to me, well if you would call **that** running, it was really more like a clumsy waddle followed by slowly by my other acquaintances Blaise Zabini, Crabbe and Goyle.

_Great just what I really need at this point, a posse, well at least I won't have to kill Blaise, he's kind of civilized._

I flung anymore homicidal thoughts away, it was hard, but I managed to smirk as I almost was bowled over by Pansy, hugging me.

"Drakie how are you sweetie pie!?" she shrieked, hugging me tighter in an attempt to squeeze all the air out of me or something ridiculous like that.

"Pansy, your mother and my mother, before she died, agreed that we keep this engagement news to a complete minimum, remember?" I lied easily; luckily my bubble-headed fiancée has an atrocious memory.

"Oh yes, I think I remember… Well I haven't told anyone but these guys." Pansy giggled, sounding more and more like a squealing piglet each new minute.

"Right then, no one will dare tell anyone else otherwise they will suffer from my hand agreed?" I sneered softly, glaring at each and every one of their petrified faces in turn.

All of them nodded dolefully before I lifted my glare, finally after what seemed like an eternity, the whistle blew and we ambled over to the nearest empty compartment and seated ourselves comfortably. I avoided Pansy as much as possible; she sat between Crabbe and Goyle while Blaise and I lounged around on the opposite seat.

"Oi Malfoy yeah we're sorry about your mother and father…" Blaise began, shifting uncomfortably beside me.

"Blaise, I have almost just gotten over their deaths, can you drop it? How was your cruise over the Pacific Ocean anyway? You never had gotten around to sending me an owl about it." I inquired lazily, looking at nothing in particular; however I used every bit of self-control to stop myself attacking the pitiable excuse for people contradictory me.

"I'll tell you when these guys aren't listening to our every word…" Blaise snickered, flicking his wand around and enchanting Goyle's hair to turn bright purple with pink and green highlights.

"Uh Goyle like your hair so totally doesn't suit you darling!" Pansy hissed, flashing her slut-like bra to me as she retrieved a mirror for Goyle.

"My hair's different…" Goyle shouted stupidly, Crabbe snorted into his Pumpkin Pasty he bought on the trolley as Blaise snickered softer than a whisper.

"I might as well leave you losers and go to the Prefect and Head compartment, come on Blaise, aren't you the Seventh Year Slytherin Prefect?" I said, standing up and turning to depart.

"Yeah I am…later guys…" Blaise bid farewell to the rest while I strode out of the compartment.


	4. Chapter 4

"Remind me to obliterate those bloody idiotic pigs as soon as I am off this fucking train Blaise…" I muttered darkly, glaring at a particular Hufflepuff second year, that little girl almost pissed her pants as she ducked back into her compartment.

_Obviously that Hufflepuff had heard of one of the many dangerous tales of me---how pathetic._

_Well not all are made up…_ a whispering thought sighed

_And not all are true!_ One thought hissed perilously

"Don't insult the pigs Draco." Zabini grinned at both the Hufflepuff's reaction and his little joke.

After a few lousy quiet minutes, we arrived at the doorway, only to be greeted with people that are **less** deserving of their titles than **everyone** else. I hated them and **they** hated me, it was a very well known fact.

Granger, from the obvious hints that I received from her scum-like badge, was the Head Girl. From the very first moment I saw her walking through the barrier and onto the platform I knew she was a pathetic revolting mudblood.

The beaver was lost and alone then, but now as she stood angrily in front of me, I knew she had changed, from bad to just plain worse. Her was bushy fuzzy brown hair, didn't smoothen as it grew out, like everybody expected, but now resembled a pathetic mesh of fraying, brown wire.

The once chocolate brown eyes that were usually bright and happy, much to my loathing, were clouded over, full of sorry and helplessness. Her face and figure hadn't changed either, except granger was a lot thinner than I had expected and all over her face showed that she had aged years in seconds.

She didn't 'bloom' into a beautiful woman like many others had foretold, but just like in the first year, Hermione Granger was and still is a lowly, mudblood bookworm.

Potter wasn't much better.

He wore a badge too; I guess 'Perfect Potter' had actually become the Gryffindor Prefect. What was so perfect about Scarhead anyway? His whore of a mother had sacrificed her life for his, it was something about this thing called 'love', but that was what my father had said anyway, and he didn't know what 'love' was too.

Glasses skewed and dark hair repulsively stuck out everywhere like Pot head had just come out of a storm. Lanky, skinny, scrawny, whatever I decided to call him none, nothing suited this wretched and pitiable excuse for a hero.

He too hadn't changed since first year, well since I made him my disagreeable foe, his emerald or puke-green eyes were glossed over and hostile, but his face was more gaunt this year, so was the rest of him.

I don't know what Granger saw in this loser, since they were holding hands for their dear 'precious' lives.

"Oh my, call the Daily Prophet, Scarhead has finally chosen between Weasel and Beaver. But seriously Potter, how did you choose between a bookworm mudblood and a poor pathetic rodent? It must have been hard to make a decision though; they **both** look like pussies." I drawled in a low, murky tone.

"We're not together Malfoy, and just for the record, we may look **like** pussies, but you **are** one!!" Granger screeched, dropping Potter's hand like a hot coal.

"You just realize that you insulted yourself, whilst attempting to insult myself." I replied smoothly, flicking a hardened smirk to the feeble pair.

"Shut it ferret boy." The Head Girl shrieked so loudly that I was certain the member's of the Head/Prefect compartment had blown their eardrums.

"Hey Granger are you **trying** to sound like a banshee or is that your **actual** voice?" Blaise cut in before Granger could utter another word and pulled her out of our way, stepping into the compartment.

When I showed my face in the little, clattering room, everyone filed out, Potter still had the door's handle, and he was glaring at me with such disliking I had a sudden urge to make it worse.

Much worse…

"Hey Flower Pot, I bet you heard you godfather scream didn't you? When he died, you know he was always weak, weak and pathetic." I drawled so softly so that only that mudblood, poor-liking bastard could hear me as I slowly closed the door on him.

And with that; he lunged.

I laughed right in his face through the compartment door window.

"Nice call Ice." Blaise snickered, I joined in. Ice was the nice he gave me when we were both five years old, I had always held an icy tone and cut off my emotions then, and still do.

"You did alright yourself Sparky." I smirked grimly at Zabini, when Blaise had thought up Ice as my nickname I knew I had to give one to him. Sparky best suited him at the time and in fact, it still does, Blaise had something I could never show, happiness, he was always bright and energetic, like he was on coffee all the time.

Silence smothered us both until I remember what he had said before we left the other Slytherins.

"Oi Sparky, how was your cruise? And why the hell couldn't you tell the others?" I inquired dolefully, stretching my aching muscular body. After killing three people in one night, furthermore crouching sure makes you sore.

Zabini burst out in a happy, vigorous laugh.

"Well on the second day I discovered Ms. Bookworm in a **very** disturbing position with one of those Weasely Twins, I think it was Gred or something like that…" he burst out laughing again at the mere thought of the Head Girl letting herself to be in a compromising place.

"Granger? **The** know-it-all ugly Gryffindor mudblood actually **got** some?" I replied monotonously, hiding my look of astonishment and replaced it with a true Slytherin disgusted simper.

"Yeah, and the best bit was when I 'accidentally' overheard that guy she was with and her, it turns out she's pregnant!"

"I should have known that Beaver would make a mess of herself with one of those blood traitors, well since you only 'accidentally' overheard, which means we have something on Granger. Is there any proof, I want something to dangle over her bushy dim-witted head." I grinned evilly; _this was going to be a very good year after all, better than the one I had planned._

_What's better than killing people?_

_Driving them insane and **then** killing them…_

_Oh…_

"Yeah, pictures, I had that Gryffindor's camera I stole last year on me and I got my mother's old memory ball to record Granger telling Gred the truth. This is going to be sweet…" Blaise's grin matched mine as he retrieved various pictures and a clouded glass ball out of his pocket.

The memory ball rested on the seat between us, the silver clouds churned around delicately, the ball could only hold one specific memory at a time but the intricate detail and uncanny truth that it showed was perfect for blackmail.

"Yeah have a look Draco, Granger looks and sounds worse on the cruise so what we saw before was a slight improvement." Blaise chuckled and with a tap of his wand and a mutter of words and the clouds in the memory ball stopped swirling and change quickly into a boat scene with two figures in obvious distress.

----MEMORY BALL VISION---

_"George, look I know we're going out and everything, but I think we both took it too far in the movie theatre last time…" Hermione Granger whispered; her screeches barely hear over the rumbling of waves._

_"Why 'Mi' what's wrong? Did I hurt you?" George Weasely inquired, wrapping his lanky arms around her twig-like waist. Granger wriggled in his grasps before sinking into a very passionate kiss._

_"I'm pregnant…" she moaned softly, snapping the Weasely twin out of the embrace._

---END OF MEMORY BALL VISION---

"I wonder how ickle little Weasel face took it." I asked sarcastically, shifting in my large seat slowly.

"Maybe he'll reject the baby **and** Granger." Blaise grinned with glee at another mere thought influence by his Memory Ball.

"No, look at his family, they'll take the baby, Granger and what ever other lost stranger they can pick up. That lump of lard that the Weasel's have for a mother always wanted more children, frankly I don't really care…" I replied lazily as the speeding train came to an immediate halt.

"We might as well go now Ice, the Great Hall and my food waits. I just hope Crabbe and Goyle don't devourer it all before we reach there." Blaise sighed, standing up and gathering his blackmailing evidence and collecting his cool demeanor.

I nodded in response, following suit but as we both left the compartment, crowds of students had flooded the corridors, eager to escape the bloody train.

"Oh fuck!" Blaise swore loudly, receiving several glares his way.

"Get out of my way mudblood!" I hissed softly, pushing another student out of my way.

"Who died and made you king Slytherin?" one unwise sixth year Gryffindor challenged me as I roughly passed him.

"Last years Head Boy obviously, now everybody move! Head Boy and Prefect coming through! Let us through otherwise I will make sure I, and the rest of the Slytherins will make your life a living fiery hell!" I barked at the top of my voice.

As soon as the other students heard my voice and saw me, they raced to jump out of the way. Fear flushed their repulsive and wretched faces, even the Slytherins stepped away from me, and it was that moment when I knew I could keep up my massacre. It was so easy, I almost began laughing like an insane lunatic or even worse, like Pot Boy.

"Those bastards will never learn…" Blaise muttered darkly behind my back as we pushed our way through the crowds and onto the platform for the last time.


	5. Chapter 5

Dinner past rapidly, so did the old crackpots speech on how we should take more note on 'house unity' because Voldemort will attack sooner or later. I almost felt like standing on top of the Slytherin Table and shouting"I killed him you pathetic excuse for wizards, I killed Voldemort" but I rethought my position. It wouldn't be very good to confess in front of every one of these mere servants of the Malfoys.

As soon as we were dismissed, bloody greasy Snape dared to place his hand on my shoulder, and actually ordering me to see Albus Dumb-ass with the pregnant Head Girl. I slowly strolled passed the other less-superior students heading in the opposite direction and casually winking at Granger, making her blush with flattery and anger or it would seem so.

"Since Mr. Malfoy has chosen to join us, I think I will begin what I say every year, to every Head Boy and Girl. You don't have to call each other by your first name; however, you must treat each other and yourself with respect and have almost a mutual understanding. If you do not agree to this, well, I know the next candidates for Head Boy and Head Girl who will replace you. Understand" Dumbledore seemed blunter and stricter this year, he was still an insane lunatic though, that fault in him will cause his downfall.

_I certainly will **not** even consider respecting anyone below myself, I do not respect mudbloods, crackpots, half-bloods nor anything else for that matter._

_Another killing spree is in order, Tom Riddle's little Basilisk only paralyzed them; even the supposed evil wizard of all time couldn't kill students with his snake…_

_Yes, but we won't kill the pathetic mudbloods yet, I'll feed them the Potion of Split Personalities so they can destroy themselves. I'll take care of some disgusting purebloods tonight though…_

"Mr. Malfoy, are you listening" Dumbly-dork inquired, his eyes twinkled in a pathetic manner.

_I guess he places a spell on the lights to make his eyes twinkle._

"Yes, I understand." I drawled lazily, seeming carefree and assuming the air of my arrogant self once again.

"Good, now you may be dismissed, meetings are held once a fortnight on Wednesday nights in the Room of Requirement at ten o'clock sharp. You're rounds will be on Monday, Thursday and Friday nights from six until ten o'clock and I must warn you: Do not abuse your Head power." The ancient should-be-dead-by-now Headmaster warned us both before strolling off with McGonagall and Snape flanking him.

As soon as the professors had left the hall Granger rounded onto me.

"Why in Merlin's name did you do that" she demanded, nostrils flaring and hair unbelievably resembling a large bush.

"Now Miss I'm-a-cross-between-a-mudblood-and-a-banshee what did I do now that has so obviously bothered you" I drawled softly, my superior smirk plastered on my perfect face once again.

"You know what I mean Mr. Oh-I'm-perfect-especially-when-I've-got-something-very-big-up-my-arse-and-I-look-like-a-bloody-ferret-too, why the hell did you wink at me"

"You think I'm perfect, why Granger you shouldn't have bothered trying to tell me something I already know and you should also try and use something original for once. Why can't I wink at an ugly, poor-liking **pregnant** little girl" I had extreme pleasure in dragging out the last bit, making her gasp in shock and her face drained slowly paling.

"I don't know what you mean **Malfoy**." Granger huffed and hurried out of the hall, leaving me alone and content with my less-subtle approach to start blackmailing.

"You will soon, you haven't felt that wrath of Draco Malfoy yet, and neither has this school." I whispered softly, promising the beginning of changes in this school.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………...

My disguise this time was different; I decided to enveloped myself all in black and silver, complete with my own mask that I had bought a last year, when there were rumors of a Masquerade Ball in the sixth year.

As I climbed into the portrait-hole, knife well hidden beneath my clothing and my eyes fixed on my prize.

Her throat was fat, also everything else resembling body parts on this girl. I hated her yet her pathetic and ditzy antics amused me greatly. Her despicable hair clung to her sweaty, puffy face, she resembled everything I hated, and as I held the knife to Pansy's throat, all my anger flooded my vision.

All I could see is red as I continued slicing her throat until there was nothing left of it. The blood drenched the sheets and her head had been knocked off the bed and was rolling around aimlessly on the stone cold floor. When I had finally stopped destroying my fiancée, I picked up her head and looked at it for a while.

Pansy's hair was still flattened by her sickly sweat but this time, it was accompanied by her deep red blood too, giving her a Halloween costume look. As I studied that late Pansy Parkinson's head I noticed many things different from her before I decapitated her. For one, Pansy's cow brown eyes had popped out of their dark hollow sockets and hung loosely on tiny vein strings that occasionally dripped soft, pale liquid and deep shadowy blood. Another thing that stood out is that her mouth was close and quiet, unlike when she was alive, when her tongue was around something all time.

After I had replaced the empty head back on the fluffy, blood-moist sheets, near the rest of her body; I moved onto my next victims, the rest of the Seventh Year Slytherins.

-

**Heya Reviewers,**

**Thanks for reviewing, at least I've got a little more than one particular friends reviews...**

**Anyway, a big thanks to everyone for you know everything...looks around for an idea Anyone? shrugs**

**Please review if you've read this, and please review my two other fanfiction stories:**

**"You Never Know"- Hermione/Draco**

**"My Angel"-Parvati/Harry**

**Thanks again!**

**Shadow Silver Wolf**

xxx ooo


	6. AUTHOR'S NOTES

**AUTHOR'S NOTES!**

Hey guys and girls its **Shadow Silver Wolf** here!

Okay here's the lowdown.

With my **four** stories, it's taking longer to type, think and make my stories as original as and better than all the others. So, unfortunately, I have to put a few stories on hold for about two week's tops (and that's a promise!). I'm really, really (x1000000000) sorry about this annoying and probably frustrating for everyone but I am still writing them so yeah!

I hope everyone reviews!

**xxx Shadow Silver Wolf xxx**


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter Six:

"Have you heard?"

"Yeah, I only heard a little bit though…"

"I can't believe it happened, and I was asleep!"

"So was I! I bet he passed our bedroom!"

"Yeah but he killed the Seventh year girls instead!"

"Oh my Merlin, are you serious, all of them?"

"Yeah, each and every one of them are dead."

"How did they die?"

"Slit throats, but one to the point of decapitation."

"They were killed the **muggle** way? Those dirty bastards!"

"Do you know which one was found headless?"

"No, tell me!"

"Parkinson."

I listened to the endless short sentenced conversations as I gradually worked my way through several pancakes, swimming in golden syrup and three goblets of pumpkin juice, in the Great Hall. I wasn't really paying attention to my deeply disturbing breakfast, as my mind was focused on what I could make Granger-the-newest-type-of-Banshee through the incredibly amusing simple game called blackmail.

The news of the delightful discovery of my latest victims had spread through the school like a wild fire in a forest, even the greatest and utmost gruesome details had somehow been leaked out into the pitiable crowd of gossiping students.

The Great Hall was skilfully decorated in all black, the teacher faculty's wardrobes, tablecloths, walls and accessories to the usual student ensemble of their uniforms had been covered completely in sable and mahogany to resemble the 'oh so horrible loss' of the sluttish whores of seventh year Slytherins.

"Who do you think murdered them?" another conversation began on the most interesting topic of the hour, again.

"It's probably some bloody fucking Mudblood." The other answered.

I held in my vast urge to laugh, and then held back another urge to curse them to oblivion, how dare they think that the murderer, is just a pathetic, low-life Mudblood?

"Silence please," Dumbledore called, the students and staff fell to a paramount silence, solemn expressions plastered each and every face in the crowd. "Now, as I am sure that news has spread throughout this morning's breakfast, it has unfortunately been discovered that seven Slytherin Seventh years have been murdered."

A murmur whipped through the crowd like a frosty wind sweeping in and out of the now empty, once-the-centre-of-bloodshed Malfoy Manor.

"Hem hem," McGonagall coughed, imitating the once Hogwarts Defence Against the Darks Teacher, Professor Dolores Umbridge. The mere imitation had sent many chills down the spines of the students who remember her unpleasant stay at this school, I ignored this reaction because not everyone hated her stay here, she hated us all, with the exception of the few Slytherins, such as myself, who joined her elite group of the Inquisitive squad.

"As I was saying, these several students were caring," a few raspy coughs echoed through the hall, including my own. "Gentle in their nature, simple and very pretty," this time many more coughs and snorts reverberated throughout the grieving Great Hall. "In their **own** way and now I would like you to **all** raise your goblets in remembrance to Kia Wakeham, Jinn Atarys, Millicent Bullistrode, Pansy Parkinson, Miranda Coppertone, Angela Freedman and Tara Kersten; we will never forget you're kind Slytherin ways." Dumbledore sighed sadly, sipping sorrowfully into his large golden goblet.

Fortunately, he did not notice everyone else snorting into their own.


End file.
